


Wing Eight

by Jay_Crow



Series: Sander Statements [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Horror, Hospitals, Implied Non-Consensual Body Modification, Minor Character Death, Spiders, Statement Fic, so many spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 06:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Crow/pseuds/Jay_Crow
Summary: Statement of Patton D’Angelo, regarding his time as a hospice nurse. Statement given 12 December 2013. Audio recording by Thomas Sanders, Collections Overseer of the Usher Foundation.





	Wing Eight

**Author's Note:**

> Here's Patton's Statement! I'll admit, I kind of ramped it up in this one. It only gets worse from here. (Just wait until Remus...)

I’ve always wanted to do something that helps people. When I was a kid, I decided I was going to be a vet. Then, a nurse, a firefighter, and so on. None of those really panned out, though I did volunteer at an animal shelter for a few years in college. I finally found my life’s calling when my grandmother was dying. A brain tumor, inoperable, months to live, the whole deal. The only thing that made it bearable was her hospice carer. Her name was Elizabeth, and she was so kind and sympathetic and understanding, but not overbearing or smothering. She had a perfect blend of compassion and professional distance, that made me feel like Nana was being cared for, but not that Elizabeth was letting her emotions get in the way of her work. That was when I decided that this was what I wanted to do with my life. When I went back to school, I immediately changed my major, and once I’d graduated, I was employed at Shady Meadows Hospice.  
I realize that this seems like meaningless backstory, but it really is important to what happened. My first patient was an elderly man with dementia named Michael. He was lovely, always positive and happy though he never remembered me or anyone else in the hospital. After a few months though, he started having… episodes. He would become violent and belligerent towards other patients and the staff, including me. It was… a bit scary, honestly. I felt out of control and helpless, and like I was letting everyone, including Michael himself, down. About a week after this started, I had a really bad bout of insomnia. I figured it was caused by the stress of what was happening at my job, and in a fit of sleep deprivation, I decided to go and check on the hospital, just to make sure everything was okay.  
When I got there, all the windows were dark, but the door was unlocked, which was odd. I didn’t pay it much mind at the time. I instinctively started walking towards Michael’s room. As I walked, I noticed that I couldn’t hear any sounds. No voices, or footsteps, or heart monitors. It was eerily silent. There should have been a night shift of at least a few people, but the only noise was my own labored breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see what seemed like long, spindly legs in the shadows, but whenever I turned to look, they would disappear. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end while I tried not to think about what might be in the hallway with me. Finally, I was standing in front of Michael’s door.  
As I reached for the doorknob, I could see that it was covered in a thin layer of cobwebs. I grasped it anyway, and shivered at the feeling on my palm. The room was pitch black when I opened the door. I reached for the lightswitch on the wall, but all I could feel was more webbing. I couldn’t even touch the lightswitch through it. I knew that something was very, very wrong, but I couldn’t turn back now. I remembered that my phone had a flashlight, and felt a bit silly for not remembering before now. I turned it on, and immediately regretted it. Coating every single surface in the room was a thick layer of spider webs. I looked at Michael’s bed. He was… oh, god. I couldn’t even see him. There were thousands upon thousands of spiders covering his body. They crawled over him, trailing silk in their wake. I’ve always been afraid of spiders, ever since I was a child. I was frozen with panic, just staring at the writhing mass of chitinous limbs and bulbous abdomens. I didn’t even move when part of the pile split off and started moving towards me. I just… stood there. I don’t know why I didn’t run. I was absolutely terrified, but something kept me there, even when they started climbing up my legs, to my chest, up my neck, to my mouth. As they started pouring down my throat, I couldn’t scream. I could feel their tiny, skittering legs down every inch of my body. And then, I didn’t feel anything. I thought that I must have passed out, but I was still standing in Michael’s room in the exact same spot. There were no spiders, or webs, and I could hear his heart monitor flatlining. Numbly, I pressed the call button. As the doctors and other nurses rushed in, I could feel something tapping in my throat. Eight tiny, sharp legs. I quit my job the next day. I haven’t been able to sleep since. 

Statement ends.

Supplemental: Mr. D’Angelo’s statement was unable to be verified except in the basic logistical details. He did indeed work at Shady Meadows Hospice from the summer of 2013 up until December 1, when he resigned, citing mental health concerns. A Michael Sanderson was reported deceased by the hospital on November 30. The cause of death was determined to be asphyxiation. There were no witnesses to the events described by Mr. D’Angelo, as well as conflicting accounts by nurses on night duty who report being in the building during the time-frame described. However, there have been several other incidents among staff at the hospice, which bear a disturbing similarity to the account given by Mr. D’Angelo. Three staff members have been found dead, all with the same cause of death; they choked to death on ‘organic matter’. I don’t particularly want to consider what variety of ‘matter’ this is. Mr. D’Angelo could not be reached for comment, as his landlord reported that he had moved out of his apartment, leaving no forwarding address. His landlord did, however, complain about the amount of cobwebs left behind in Mr. D’Angelo’s apartment, in some cases completely covering the walls. End recording.


End file.
